


Sweet Nothings

by hypnoshatesme



Series: Flames and Flowers [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Other, i think it might be a bit too sweet, it might be toothrotting, sometimes it's just what you need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: Gerry and Michael take their well-deserved break to relax and recover.basically some (longish) snippets from the mentioned break at the end of part 1. I mean you can read it as a standalone, you just might be a little confused by some things. But I don't like to tell people what to do, so more power to you!
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion
Series: Flames and Flowers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835320
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	Sweet Nothings

**Author's Note:**

> at least two people said I should write that thing I felt low key compelled to write and I did. Probably best consumed when Comfy. Or maybe it'll help with achieving comfyness? Idk. I tried writing something comfy.

“Maybe it’ll continue raining for the whole of your stay,” it mumbled, sounding surprisingly clear considering its cheek was pressed against Gerry’s head. 

They had arrived earlier that day, a small house in the middle of nowhere - well, not quite, the village was about fifteen minutes away - in the mountains. It had been overcast, but nice, and they had gone to explore the woods right behind the house. They didn’t make it very far before the rain had hit.

Gerry looked up from the book in his lap. “Would that be so bad? You’re not bothered by rain.” 

Michael hadn’t even gotten wet, the raindrops twisting to avoid it. Even the ones that seemed to hit left no trace on it, instead changing colour and shape before disintegrating. Gerry had pretty much been soaked in seconds, despite the trees. He hadn’t minded too much. It had been soothing for the burns.

“This is  _ your _ holiday," Michael mumbled, burying its face in his hair.

Gerry grinned. "And I'm already enjoying it greatly." 

They were curled up on the couch, rain hitting the glass doors that lead into an unfenced garden that dissolved into woods. Gerry tried not to think too much about their position because it made no sense. He could feel Michael against him, the slight buzzing of its skin against his back. But he could also feel a distinct lack of it along his spine, where the burns were tender again after he dared to take a slightly warmer shower. Trying to imagine how it was doing it was giving him a headache and so he tried to focus extra hard on the book in his hands.

Michael sighed and rested its head on Gerry's, watching the rain hit the glass to its side. "I guess it's not too bad. If we stay like this."

“Hm, well, eventually, I will have to get up,” Gerry chuckled.

“What a shame,” it mumbled, nuzzling his damp hair. Gerry always smelled so nice after a shower. “Can you read out loud a little?” It sounded bashful asking, much like it had nearly two months ago when they were both unsure whether Gerry would find his end that week. 

He smiled. “Sure.”

He read for a bit, still not quite used to hearing his own voice like that. Gerry mumbled to himself plenty so it wasn't necessarily the sound itself that was strange. It was more the awareness of being listened to, knowing that he wasn't the only one paying attention to it. Gerry still wasn't quite sure whether he liked it. But Michael was making its weird purring noise and Gerry read on.

  
  


"You should go to bed," Michael said after a while. Gerry's words were starting to run together and his eyebrows were pinched as if to bring the words into focus.

He didn't even try to argue, closing the book and leaning back with a sigh. "Sounds good." Gerry did not move to get up but pushed his glasses into his hair - and nearly into Michael's face - to rub at his eyes.

"Should I carry you?" It plucked the glasses from Gerry's hair and put them on its own head. Gerry kept forgetting they were there and then they'd fall. Michael’s hair always held on to them.

The nod that came as an answer was shy and easy to miss but Michael caught it, had been looking out for it. It was careful as it picked him up, still trying to avoid the burns while having a decent grip. 

Gerry’s eyes were closed, face pressed into Michael’s shoulder. Michael didn’t really smell of anything, which was odd, and also of everything, which was even stranger. It had become Gerry’s favourite scent. He heard a door creak open.

“Are you really going to use your doors to get upstairs?,” he mumbled, amused.

Michael shrugged. “No reason not to.” It stepped through the door and a moment later Gerry found himself being gently laid on the bed.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his belly. It tended to be the most bearable position for the night, though he still tended to toss around. It would probably be worse if Michael weren’t there to keep it to a minimum. He felt it slip into bed next to him and shuffled closer, resting his head on its chest. It wrapped its arms around him carefully, avoiding touching the burns but still holding him close. 

It had tried to leave Gerry alone at night, or to at least not touch him, but that only enabled him to move around a lot, reopening wounds or at least waking up with them hurting badly again. So they had settled for this and Gerry was quite happy with it. It was a comfort to have it there, to feel its fingers in his hair, on his back, its arms around him. 

Gerry hadn’t managed to shake the feeling of loss, the empty space he felt where something had been before it burned away. And he knew, objectively, what that something had been and that he had been desperately trying to keep it out, to be rid of it. But still, he felt its absence keenly, especially at night where he could nearly pretend his eyes were still okay, that everything had just been a dream. It hadn’t. Having Michael there helped with accepting that. It hadn’t left even after he became not only useless, but a liability, and it still held him and made him feel like things were alright. Its staticy presence also numbed the pain a little. Gerry especially appreciated that at night.

He could still hear the rain outside as he started drifting off to sleep, with not-quite-fingers playing with his hair.

*

Gerry was trying to ignore the feeling of fingers stroking his face. Sleep was still there, not quite out of reach, and he didn’t feel like letting it go yet. Turning around did little, fingers combing through his hair instead. It felt nice, and he knew it had lulled him to sleep the night before, but now it was slowly waking him up. 

He sighed, finally giving up and rolling onto his back. He opened his eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. The blurry colours were all wrong, browns and creams instead of the whites and blacks in his own apartment. Yellow floated into his vision, and Gerry didn’t need his glasses to recognise the subtly moving hair, the too bright eyes that were swimming together as he tried to focus on them.

“It stopped raining,” it said and Gerry sighed, throwing his arm over his eyes. 

“That so?,” he mumbled, “I was enjoying sleep, to be honest.”

He could feel it coming closer, the vague staticy presence suddenly next to his face. “There’s a rainbow.” 

Its voice was more focused, layers and echos minimal. It had started to try that in the morning. Gerry already woke up disoriented enough with his bad vision. Michael didn’t want to add to the creases that always appeared on his forehead in those first moments of confusion when he tried to blink sleep away only for the world to stay hazy.

Gerry smiled. “Is that what you woke me up for?”

“I also tried to make tea.”

He raised an eyebrow. Michael had started to want to make tea ever since Gerry woke up. The results had been quite mixed, and none of them had been actual tea yet. “How did it go?”

Michael considered for a moment, running a finger along Gerry’s arm. “I...think it’s edible.”

“I’m not sure if tea should be edible, Michael.” The amusement was clear in his voice.

“I didn’t break anything.”

“Progress,” Gerry laughed, uncovering his eyes with a sigh. “Fine, I’ll get up.” 

He felt for his glasses on the nightstand, but Michael snatched them before he could. It put them on Gerry’s face carefully, watching as he blinked in confusion. He relaxed as things started coming into focus.

“A little warning would be nice,” he sighed.

“You just get them dirty like that.”

It was right. Gerry had already given up on keeping them clean in the little time he’d had them. It didn’t really disturb the wave of relief that went through him every time he could finally  _ see _ . He was always half-expecting it to stop working, for it to get worse. But it had been a little over two weeks now and it stayed the same. His burns were healing, slowly. They still felt vaguely hot, which seemed strange. But at least it didn’t seem to be getting worse.

He dragged himself out of bed, stretching carefully. His skin still felt uncomfortably tight over his joints. But at least there was barely any actual pain by now. Michael pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Did you sleep well?”

Gerry nodded and brushed his lips against its jaw, before making his way downstairs to the kitchen. Michael followed, this time using the stairs.

  
  


The tea did not smell like anything Gerry should try consuming. It was also stuck in the mug, so he had to cut the gelatinous substance out. It was at least less solid than the last try. Probably edible in that sense, even if in no other. It wouldn’t crush his teeth if he’d try to eat it.

“It’s not hot,” Michael mumbled as it watched him, eyebrows drawn together. Last time, it had at least had the right temperature. Which had been an improvement from melting the mug the time before that.

Gerry looked at it over his shoulder, grinning at its focused expression. “Yeah, that’s one of the things that’s making this not quite tea.” He put the now empty mug in the sink and started making some drinkable tea. “Do you want some, too?”

Michael nodded. Gerry didn’t need to look at it to know the answer. Michael had become quite fond of tea. Or maybe it was a fascination with how it managed to never quite make tea when it set out to do so. Gerry was just glad it hadn’t decided to try cook food yet.

  
  


They decided to bring their tea outside, sitting on the bench next to the glass doors. It was still early, somewhat misty but already warming. Despite the light fog, the rainbow over the woods was in clear view, colours bright against the grey-blue sky.

“I thought you’d like to see it,” Michael said, wrapping its hands around its mug. 

It usually spent more time just holding it, hovering its face over the warmth coming off the mug, than actually drinking it. It looked quite adorable that way and Gerry had a difficult time looking away from it and back at the colours over the greens of the trees. It did look beautiful.

Gerry leaned against it with a smile. “Thank you.”

*

They had decided to walk the opposite direction of the woods and had found a meadow, lush grass and colourful wildflowers. Gerry was sitting cross legged in the middle of it after having spent some time picking flowers. Michael had watched him, curious, but not daring to disturb the scene. 

Gerry had looked beautiful among all the colours, black standing out strongly against the bright green of the long grass. He looked relaxed as he gently ran his fingers over the grass, walking slowly, stopping to pick the occasional flower. Michael couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but there was an easy smile on his lips all the while. He looked happy. The sight was breathtaking. It made Michael forget it didn’t breathe.

It watched him as he sat down next to it again, flowers in his lap and it finally decided to ask, “What are you doing?”

“Trying something out,” he mumbled, not looking up from the flowers in his lap.

Michael shrugged and started running its hands through his hair. Michael was still careful about touching him, avoiding the burns the best it could. His hair, though, was safe. And Gerry always liked when it touched his hair. Michael watched the soft black strands run through its fingers. Some colour would probably look great.

“Can I have some of those flowers?” 

“There’s plenty around.” He grinned, “Get your own.”

Michael sighed, but did just that. It didn’t move from its spot as it picked them and Gerry fought the urge to turn around and find the source of the cracking noises he was hearing. He knew what it was. He knew it would just give him a headache to see its body ignore all laws of physics. So he stayed focused on the flowers in his lap and got to work.

He tried to listen to Michael’s humming instead, buzzing and off-tune. Despite it sounding unpleasant, it made him comfortable. He wasn’t sure if it was just him picking up on Michael’s feelings or his own genuine opinion, but it didn’t really matter. Gerry still liked it.

Soon enough, its fingers were back in Gerry’s hair, combing through it before starting to braid it. Gerry hummed appreciatively, fighting the urge to lean into the touch. Michael grinned at that, threading some of the flowers through his hair as it continued the braid.

“Where did you learn how to braid?,” Gerry asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

It pondered for a moment, finishing up the braid. “I don’t think I did.”

“Of course,” Gerry chuckled. “Are you done? Can I turn around?”

Michael nodded taking in its work. It was a little messy, but it was quite proud of how it turned out. “Yes.” 

Gerry carefully turned around to face it, holding the flower crown he’d been working on in his hands. Michael eyed it curiously.

“It’s for you.” Gerry reached up to place it on its head and it bent down slightly to make it easier.

Some yellow strands seemed to excitedly wrap around it, securing it as it straightened up again. It looked awed as it brought its fingers to gently trace the petals, it’s cheeks taking on a rather soft shade of turquoise, for its standards, freckles turning into small specks of bright purple and yellow on its face. Not for the first time, Gerry found himself wondering if it meant something. 

Though, considering it was Michael, it was probably arbitrary. Maybe an expression of excitement as it radiated glee when it looked at Gerry again, eyes not just wide, but bigger, grin face-splitting. Gerry didn’t even know where the eyebrows went. It was a difficult to look at, too far away from normal to not make his head hurt a little, but Gerry still smiled. It looked happy. Or it felt happy. Whatever it was, it was infectious. 

“Thank you,” it whispered, nearly reverently, and the movement of its lips made the whole picture even more nightmarish.

Gerry chuckled, but there was an edge to it. Michael forced its features back to its usual and gave him an apologetic smile. At least that’s what Gerry thought it was trying to make it be. It was hard to tell sometimes. But it didn’t really matter. It looked beautiful. 

“Can I draw you?,” he blurted out.

Michael’s head tipped to the side, grinning as it noticed Gerry’s cheeks darken. “You can try.”

  
  


It was difficult. Gerry should definitely know what it looked like by now, and he _ did _ , but when it came to details they weren’t quite clear. Trying to look at it for reference, however, did not seem to actually help with that. It did hold still, unnaturally so, but the closer Gerry tried to focus on its features the more hazy they seemed. Never quite the same, sometimes clearly not as they were seconds before. The mole by its eyebrow had definitely not been there last time he had looked. He sighed, giving up.

“Are you doing that on purpose?,” he mumbled, squinting at the sketch that somehow looked surprisingly close to what he was seeing, but also not like Michael at all.

“Am I?,” it mumbled and leaned forward to take a glimpse at the sketchbook in Gerry’s hand. It give a satisfied grin. “It looks good.”

Gerry looked up. “Of course you’d be satisfied.” in a way it did perfectly capture it. Just a couple steps removed from right. Michael pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"You should draw yourself. The flowers look very nice in your hair."

Gerry raised an eyebrow at that, but grinned. "Why don't  _ you _ draw me?" He held out his sketchbook.

Michael drew its eyebrows together looking at it. It had expected Gerry to ask for a mirror or something. This was unexpected. Michael liked unexpected. It took the sketchbook and pen. "I...can try."

“How do you want me to sit?”

Michael shrugged. “Just whatever is comfortable to you.”

“Well, if you want to catch the braid…” Gerry rearranged his position so Michael could see his profile. He took off his sunglasses and leaned back a little, closing his eyes as he angled his face towards the sun. 

Michael watched him attentively, following his every movement with its eyes. Gerry had done that earlier when he drew it. Michael didn’t exactly know what to look for, but it had a genuine excuse to watch Gerry closely and it would take it. How exactly it was supposed to transfer the view onto blank paper it didn’t know.

  
  


Michael kept getting distracted. It would look to get a better idea of the shape of his nose and it would end up just staring for so long it’d forget what it had been meant to focus on. Michael had always loved to watch the sun on Gerry’s skin in the morning through the blinds, making it look so very inviting to touch. In a way, the sun was doing the same now, except it wasn’t teasing stray rays of sunlight, but just all of Gerry that was illuminated. 

He had started to look better lately, gaining colour in his face again, and the sunlight only emphasised it, making the dark circles under his eyes lighter and softening a lot of the exhaustion from restless nights. It made his face look warm and Michael’s eyes kept finding a new detail to linger on, noting how his cheekbones weren’t as prominent as they had been after he woke up again. His appetite had come back slowly, but it was definitely getting better. Michael’s eyes followed the line of his jaw, the curve of his chin, forgot that it meant to draw any of it as its gaze fell on a strand of hair that had been blown into Gerry’s face and stuck to his chapped lips. 

It didn’t even notice the pen and sketchbook slipping out of its hands as it leaned forward, gently brushing the strand back behind his ear and pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. Gerry’s eyelids fluttered open in surprise, but the sun quickly made him squeeze them shut again and Michael kissed his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his forehead and Gerry chuckled as it continued to pepper his face with kisses.

“Do you need to map out the details with your lips to get them right on paper?,” he mumbled, voice warm and fond and teasing.

Michael gently cupped his face in its hand, pulling away just long enough to mumble, “Mhm...maybe.” Gerry chuckled and it kissed his lips softly.

Gerry returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around its neck and pulling it down as he lay down in the grass. When Gerry opened his eyes again after they broke the kiss, Michael’s head was blocking the sun, the vague shape and colour of it hovering over him much as it often did in the morning. He couldn’t really make out its expression, could barely make out its features but he could feel the adoration in that weird way it always seemed to make its feelings known. Gerry was either getting better at reading it or Michael was getting better at being clear when it wanted to be.

It made it easy to picture the dreamy smile, the eyes crinkling with fondness. The idea still made Gerry blush even though Michael was little more than a blur in front of him. Michael brushed its nose along his cheek before kissing him again and Gerry closed his eyes, kissing back with a soft smile.

*

Gerry held another strawberry to its lips and it ate it with a satisfied grin, pressing a kiss to Gerry’s fingertips. There was really no way to tell whether the grin was because of that or the strawberry. For something that didn’t need food, Michael sure seemed to enjoy eating it. Gerry still didn’t get it.

“Can you taste it? Do you get anything out of eating normal food?”

It looked at him with what went for its thoughtful expression, that rarely ever ended in a satisfying answer to any question. “Sometimes.”

Gerry frowned, “What...does that even mean?” It shrugged and Gerry rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I really can’t tell if you’re being like this on purpose or if you can’t help it.”

Michael grinned and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” Gerry mumbled, burying his face in its neck. He kissed the hickey there, now months old and still looking as it had when Gerry had been done with it. As far as he understood Michael, it was a personal choice to keep it. “Are you really just going to keep this forever?”

“Maybe I’ll change its shape.” It turned into a spiral for a moment, before going back to its original shape.

Gerry laughed. "Great." His finger came to trace it, before it continued down, following the line of Michael’s neck. Michael craned its neck slightly as it made a satisfied noise and Gerry grinned. "Guess there's no reason for me to try that again," he mumbled, a teasing hint in his voice.

Michael looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Was there one for this one?"

"Curiosity," he said with a playful wink, fingers tracing the line of his throat.

It vaguely remembered Gerry asking about whether giving it a hickey would work. A grin spread on its face. "How do you know it will be the same every time?"

Knowing Michael, it would probably find ways to somehow make it work differently every single time. The very idea was exciting in itself, but Gerry was also very curious to find out what it might come up with, what it might  _ do _ . Well, that one was a constant when it came to Michael, he guessed. The thrill he felt about that never seemed to subside.

Gerry hummed, pointedly thoughtful. "I guess that's a good point,” Gerry moved carefully to straddle its lap, trying to ignore the strain on his knees as he took its face in his hands, voice low when he mumbled, “I might have to reconsider." Gerry leaned in to kiss it, but the shifting only made his tender knees rub against the couch and he froze in his track, biting his lip.

Michael noticed him tensing, the short flash of pain in his eyes and it carefully helped Gerry back into a sitting position in its lap. Gerry sighed, frustrated, and leaned his head against Michael’s chest. He had to take care of the burns before even attempting to sleep tonight. He assumed the exposure to the sun was probably not helping with them healing.

Michael pressed a kiss to his hairline, mumbling, "When you're better."

A small smile tugged at Gerry’s mouth. "Sounds like a good plan." He looked up at it, "Help me with the cream?"

Michael always did, thankfully, because Gerry had no clue how he’d reach the full length of his spine without making the healing skin on his shoulders or elbows rip in protest. He still liked to ask. Michael’s voice always had a surprisingly soothing quality to it when it answered, like it was the most obvious, natural thing that it would help him with this. With everything.

It smiled as it ran its fingers through his hair. "Of course."

*

Gerry loved the quiet at night. He always had, had sneaked out whenever his mother brought them somewhere far from any city. He’d go outside to enjoy the calm, watch the stars. It was the closest he ever got to feeling something akin to serenity. 

Michael’s head was in his lap, its legs somehow fitting on the bench even though there was no way there was enough room for them. Gerry could barely fit on it outstretched. Michael was a good head or two taller than him. But Gerry didn’t question it, running his hand through its hair as he watched the sky. It wasn’t a clear night, but there were still some stars peeking out from under passing clouds and Gerry smiled.

It was warm and the soft breeze cool, bringing the scent of pine and what seemed to be some distant music. Gerry thought he imagined it at first. But he kept hearing a faded melody, sometimes overtaken by the rustling of the leaves, but definitely there. He frowned, straining his ears to determine where it was coming from. “Do you hear that?”

Michael shifted in his lap to look up at him. “I think they’re holding some festival or something in the village.”

They had gone there once or twice to get some groceries. Michael vaguely remembered seeing people put up decorations on the houses the last time when it got bored by Gerry chatting with the cashier and started to wander ahead.

Gerry nodded, hand stilling in its hair. “Oh, right...I remember hearing about that.”

Michael sat up in one fluid motion that was jerky at the same time. “Do you want to go?”

Gerry shook his head. “No.” 

They sat for a moment, listening to the music and the wind rustling in the nearby trees. It was its own melody, but added to the music somehow, Gerry thought. He turned around to face Michael, who was watching him. Michael seemed to always be watching him and Gerry should probably talk to it about that. But he just didn’t feel as bothered as he should by that habit. It was somewhat endearing. Gerry felt seen, but not in a bad way. Michael didn’t care if he could hunt Leitners or fight monsters. It looked at _ him _ . It made him feel giddy.

“Do you want to dance?” Gerry grinned, holding out his hand to it.

Michael looked at his hand for a moment before nodding and taking it, letting Gerry pull it to its feet. Michael placed its hand on his side, carefully avoiding the burns on his back. It let Gerry find a comfortable position for his hand in its own and wrapped its fingers around it loosely, not quite touching the sensitive skin. His knuckles were probably the ones taking the longest to heal. Gerry could never hold his hands still for very long.

They started swaying gently, vaguely following the soft music. Michael didn’t actually know how to dance, it simply followed Gerry’s steps, letting him pull it along as he moved. Gerry leaned his head on its chest, a soft smile on his lips. The grass was cool under his feet, the gentle breeze soothing on his skin and he let go of Michael’s hand to wrap both arms around it. Their steps were slower than the music, but it was fine. Nobody was there to judge anyways, to see.

Michael brushed its now free hand through his hair, humming along, while failing to hit a single note. Gerry chuckled, pressing his forehead against its chest. It was the rare bubbly kind that made his shoulders shake. Michael thought it lovelier than any music and it smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> ok, like, i don't think i'll continue but please imagine:  
> they go back to london and open a flower shop that gives you the most confusing experience ever (didn't i want something else? did I even pay?) and people keep coming back to make sure they weren't like, imagining the fact that one half of the lovely couple running it was kind of glitching a bit last time and oh he does have rather big hands has he not? and gerry can't really complain, i mean, it keeps customers coming and it's not HURTING anyone so he just kinda rolls with it and sometimes people come and the store is closed because its opening hours are A Mystery since they're sometimes randomely out to hunt books or whatnot. Also, all flowers aquired in that shop seem to not quite behave as they should? I should probably go back and ask and ah, what did I come here for again, oh right, buy some flowers from the cute couple...


End file.
